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“Wharfmaster, ahoy!” Billy hailed, as they came near the water’s edge. “Is all ship-shape?” Billy turned the bulky papers over and over as if to gather some hint of their meaning from fold and stiffness. “What is it, Mr. Smith?” he asked wonderingly. “My eye!” exclaimed Clarence, mockingly shading his eyes from his sister’s radiance, “She’s got her joy-bells on, what’s the stunt?”.
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Conrad
“I guess Nancy’s got tired wartchin’ fer the gopher to come out,” remarked Betty, presently. “She’s left her job an’ gone away. P’raps she thinks she can git a mouse in the barn easier.” As Mrs. Wopp was preparing for bed that night, she recalled the sensation the sight of her reckless offspring had given her. Another sound in a somewhat higher key was heard. Moses had simply modulated in his domestic symphony of labor from a major task to a minor one. As a change and refreshing recreation, Moses was allowed to turn the small wheat-mill. Ninety soul-stirring turns it required to empty the hopper once, and he must turn out enough flour for a batch of bread. His youthful soul was in revolt at such servitude. He had no sympathy to squander on the children of Israel in bondage vile. Making bricks for Pharoah was infantile amusement compared to his labor. “Do you live here?” she questioned with an irrepressible shudder..
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